Aftermath
by AgentDiNozzo13
Summary: Just an idea I had to get down on paper. It focuses on what happened directly after the explosion in season 1, including the explosion itself and a little bit during while Neal's in prison. Lots of sad/hurt Neal, if that's your thing. Please read!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This explains what happened right after the plane explodes, because the show doesn't explain other than what happened two months after. When I mention the wine bottle, I didn't know what year to put because in the Pilot episode the bottle says 1891 but Neal says 82. So I chose what the bottle said.**

**I have rewritten this chapter in so many different ways over an extension of snow days I recently had, and almost chose a different angle, but I decided this one was the one to post. I'm not exactly proud of it, especially not the beginning since its just retelling part of an actual episode, so I don't think I did it justice, but I hope you enjoy it.**

Neal walked out onto the asphalt outside Hanger 4. The jet was about 100 feet away; he could hear the engine running as it prepared for flight. Kate walked into the open doorway, waving to him. Neal lifted a hand to wave back, and began to walk toward the plane. He stopped short when a voice called from behind him.

"Neal!"

Neal lowered his hand and turned slowly to face none other than Agent Peter Burke.

"Are you here to arrest me?" Neal asked, dreading the answer.

"I'm still a civilian." Peter said, smiling; his hands spread out on each side, somewhat of a cross between a shrug and surrender. "And I know about mentor." He said, lowering his hands. "And I know you can walk away, and it's all legal." He said, gesturing towards the plane.

"Then what are you doing here?" Neal asked, confused. Snow began to fall softly around him.

"I'm here as your friend." Peter said, shrugging his shoulders.

"You understand I'm getting on that plane…" Neal asked, pointing at the plane behind him. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I also know you're making the biggest mistake of your life." Peter countered.

"This is what's best for everyone, Peter. You go back to you're life, I get to have one of my own." Neal replied, desperately.

"You already have one!" Peter said disbelievingly. "Right here! You have people that care about you. You make a difference." When Neal looked away, Peter added, "You do."

Neal looked at him for a second as if he was going to say something, then, instead, fumbled around inside the inner-breast pocket of his jacket. He pulled something small and rectangular out, walking forward several steps.

"Thank you for this." Neal said, handing Peter the object. Peter could see faint signs that Neal was getting choked up, but he could also see the conman in him cleverly masking it.

Peter unfolded the item. It was the I.D. card they'd made for Neal when he first became a consultant. Peter shook his head slightly and looked up at the younger man.

"I gotta go." Neal said, turning before Peter could see his walls breaking down slowly. He walked several steps out towards the plane before he heard Peter call to him again.

"You said goodbye to everyone but me. Why?" Peter called out. He had been hurt that Neal never said his farewells to him like he had to everyone else. And he was using it as an opportunity to stall.

Neal hesitated before turning back. He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"Yeah you do, tell me." Peter persisted.

"I don't know, Peter."

"_Why?_" he said again, more sternly than the last.

"You know why!" Neal said, becoming uncomfortable.

"Tell me." Peter forced.

"Cause you're the only one who could change my mind." Neal admitted sullenly.

"Did I?" Peter asked, hopefully. The hope was dashed when Neal looked back at the plane and began to walk away again. Peter sighed and watched as he walked.

Suddenly he saw the younger man stop, and hesitantly turn back. A tear was visible running down his cheek.

"Peter…"

Before Peter could figure out what was happening, the plane behind Neal exploded in a burst of flames. The pressure pushed Neal off his feet. Peter was running towards him in an instant, as Neal began to get back up. He reached the man just in time as he began to bolt back towards the plane. Neal's eyes were panicked, his hair messed up from the wind.

"No! No! NO!" Neal shouted as Peter tried to keep his grip on him. For a moment Neal stopped struggling and whispered, "Oh my God…" before once more screaming, "NOOO!"

At that moment Neal collapsed onto the ground, a hysteria of sobs and yells. He was ranting endlessly, "Peter she's dead! Peter we have to help her! Peter! How… KATE!" as he sobbed. Peter went to comfort the man, when suddenly Neal clung to Peter, his arms wrapped around the older man. Peter hugged him back, ignoring the fact that in the right mind Neal would never think of offering that kind of touch. Neal sobbed into Peter's shoulder for several minutes as the noise died down.

Neal removed his head from Peter's shoulder and stood, his entire body shaking. He took several clumsy steps towards the wreck, noticing that ashes were slowly mixing with the falling snow. The plane's ashes. Kate's ashes. Neal suddenly began wiping the ashes off of himself furiously, screaming, "It's Kate! Oh my God! It's Kate!"

Neal's entire body was wracking with sobs and shakes, as he stopped brushing the ashes off and instead stared at the burning spot that was once a large jet. He walked forward several steps more, and leaned down to pick something up. It was a bottle of wine. Unopened. It had somehow survived the large explosion, and was now covered in ash. Neal could barely make out the label. Bordeaux. 1891. Kate had bought a full bottle of _their_ wine. A symbol that the promise of a good life had finally been fulfilled. Neal knelt down on his knees and cradled the bottle in his hands. Slowly he lay down on his back and clutched the bottle to his chest.

And there he lay, a broken man, covered in ashes, staring up at the sky as he clutched a bottle of wine to his chest. Peter slowly made his way over to him, still trying to take in what just happened.

"Neal, you need to get up."

As much as Peter wanted to let his friend lay there as long as he needed, he had to report this. For all he knew the person who blew up the plane could still be here. When Neal ignored him, still staring at the sky, Peter extended a hand towards him. Neal still ignored him at first, but then reached his hand out to take Peter's. Peter pulled the man up, slowly, so that he was in a standing position. He noticed how bad Neal's trembling really was, and also noted that his hands were cold and clammy. Neal had tear lines running down his face. Peter recalled him once telling Neal that if he cried, he would simply give him a slug on the shoulder and tell him to cowboy up. But Neal was beyond just crying. He had been sobbing. And now he had a distant look, as if he were in another world. Peter waved a hand in front of Neal's face. Neal slowly turned his head to face Peter.

"She's gone." He whispered.

"Let's go, Neal." Peter said. He went to take the wine bottle from the con's hands, but Neal looked at him with panic in his eyes and pulled the bottle out of Peter's reach. Peter decided to let him hold onto it, and led Neal away from the scene with his hand on the man's shoulder. When they were about to turn towards the parking lot, where Peter's Taurus was waiting, Neal turned around once more and let out a small whimper. The fire was dying down, and the last of the ash had settled. Peter looked at the man with immense sympathy, and gently guided him back on track to the car.

Once they were safely in the car, Peter looked at Neal, who had not yet buckled his seatbelt. He was simply staring at the bottle in his hands, turning it over and over, slowly reading the label each time.

"Neal, you need to buckle your seatbelt." Peter said as gently as possible.

Neal gave him no response. It was as if he hadn't even heard Peter.

Peter sighed and reached across Neal, pulling the seatbelt over him, maneuvering around his arms, and clicked it into place. Neal didn't even acknowledge him.

Peter sat back for a moment and realized how fast his heart was beating. Then the thought went through his mind. _I just watched a plane explode. I just watched Neal's love die. _He couldn't believe that's what he just went through. It seemed like only seconds had passed since it happened, but it had really been almost twenty minutes. It was almost unreal. Kate, the one they had worked so hard to protect, was dead. Just like that. Peter drove on autopilot to his house. He guided Neal inside, who was still staring at the bottle. Once safely inside, he called El to come downstairs. When she did, she noticed the crazed look on her husband's face and was immediately concerned.

"Honey, what happened?"

"El, watch Neal. I have to go call in what just happened and I don't want him to hear me."

"What _did_ just happen?" El asked, panicking.

"I'll explain in a minute. I'm going to go make the call. Don't try talking to Neal, he won't respond." Peter said before leaving the room.

El had no idea what was happening. But it was obvious that it wasn't good. Neal was still standing where Peter had left him, staring down at a wine bottle.

"Neal, would you like to sit?" Elizabeth offered. Neal didn't even blink.

Elizabeth walked over to him and gently guided him to the couch, where he slowly sat. The entire time his eyes were locked on the bottle. El sat on his left. When he finally looked up, he seemed dazed. She held back a gasp when she realized his eyes were filled with tears. His hair was sticking out everywhere, and there were lines of ashes sweeping across his face. His body was visibly trembling, especially his hands, which were trying their best to keep their grip on the wine bottle.

"She's gone." He whispered to her, his voice broken. He sounded like a small child.

"Who's gone, Neal?" she asked. Before Neal could answer, Peter was back in the room.

"El…"

"Peter what is going on?" Elizabeth asked from next to Neal; who had gone back to staring at his bottle.

"El, we were just at the airstrip by the Hudson River. Do you remember how Neal was supposed to leave?"

"Well, sort of, I mean he said goodbye to me and you mentioned that Mentor thing." She answered, still confused.

"Well, I went there to see if I could get Neal to stay, and…"

"And _what_?" Elizabeth asked, getting up and walking over to her husband.

Peter kept his voice low, although with how out-of-it Neal was he assumed he wouldn't hear them anyway.

"The plane that Kate was on exploded." He finally said. El had disbelief and shock painted across her face.

"Wait so Kate's…"

"Dead." Peter finished.

It was then that Neal looked up; obviously he _had_ been listening.

"Peter?" Neal asked quietly, his voice somewhat raspy from crying.

"Yeah, Neal?" Peter answered, sure that his face was covered in nothing but sympathy and pity for the younger man.

"Can I go home now?"

Peter was shocked at how young Neal sounded. He sounded like an eight year old child who wasn't having any fun at a birthday party; miserable.

Elizabeth gave Peter a look that said, 'there is no way you're letting him leave'. Peter understood and said, "Absolutely not. You can take the guest room tonight."

Normally Neal would protest, and when his mouth began to open Peter was sure he would, but Neal only closed his mouth again and nodded. The poor man had no fight left in him. He didn't think this was a good time to tell him that the FBI had a warrant for his arrest and would be collecting him tomorrow.

**A/N: Not very good, I know, but it was just a random idea I had to get on paper. If you'd like to read one of my better Neal hurt stories, try I Didn't Let You Down. It's still in progress and has plenty of hurt Neal and Peter comfort. As for this story, if you want me to continue, there will only be one or two chapters after this one; hopefully better ones. I have another story idea which you can find in a poll on my profile page, and I may combine it with this one. I'm not sure yet, though. Please review! **

**-AgentDiNozzo13**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: My sincerest apologies for the wait, I was writing this and a court scene for a different story, and court room scenes aren't my area of expertise, so it took a while. I hope you understand. I'm not particularly happy with this but the prison time is next and that should be much easier to write. Enjoy!**

Peter had checked on Neal periodically through the night, always on edge in case the upset con tried to run. As a safety precaution he'd even jammed the windows in the guest room shut.

When Neal finally decided to come downstairs, he was a complete wreck. He was wearing the same black turtle neck and gray slacks he'd had on the previous day, only now they were more rumpled and uneven. His hair's condition mirrored his clothes'; it was strewn about in a classic case of bed-head. But none of this was important once Peter looked at his face.

Neal's eyes no longer held that spark he was so accustomed to. Now they were dull, almost empty. It was as if all the life had been taken out of him, leaving him a walking corpse. His pupils never focused on anything in particular, they just floated around the room, as if searching for a reason to take his next step.

"Good morning Neal." Peter said, attempting to sound casual.

"Good…" Neal repeated in a whisper, causing Peter to regret his poor choice of words.

"Uh… You want something to eat?" he asked, knowing El would be more than happy to prepare a bowl of cereal or cook some eggs for him.

Neal shook his head back and forth slowly, then walked into the kitchen. His zombie-like appearance was frightening Peter. Hopefully Elizabeth could help restore some of that spark.

When Peter entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Neal wasn't there. Only El, who was at the table sipping coffee and reading the Arts section of the newspaper.

"Where's Neal?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"He went outside, I think he needed some air." She said, taking another sip of coffee.

Peter rushed towards the door, expecting to find his backyard con-less. But Neal was there, alright. He was leaning with his arms crossed on top of the fence, looking out at the rising sun.

Peter was about to speak, when he noticed the tears silently running down his partner's face. So instead he simply turned and went back inside, allowing Neal to grieve in private.

"What's he doing?" El asked.

"Just getting some air." Peter answered. He was sure Neal didn't want either of them to know he was crying, so he gave him the courtesy of keeping it from El.

El nodded; her concern was undeterred but she refrained from questioning further. It was obvious Neal needed to be alone. She understood and wanted him to feel comfortable.

"So when are they picking him up?" El asked, referring to FBI agents who were taking Neal to prison.

"Soon." Peter answered. He knew his wife wasn't happy with them taking Neal back to prison, Peter wasn't either, but it was procedure. Neal still hadn't been eliminated as a suspect.

"Did you tell him?" El asked, knowing her husband had a tendency to procrastinate with these sorts of things.

"Not yet." He admitted.

"Well don't you think you should tell him before they get here?" El asked, finishing her coffee.

A knock emitted from the living room.

"I think it's too late for that."

…

When Jones entered the living room, Peter was somewhat surprised. He had been told two agents from another division would be escorting him to prison. Apparently Jones had offered instead; something Peter greatly appreciated. Neal needed a familiar face, not two rough FBI agents who didn't give a damn about who he was, what he had done, or whether he had really done it.

"Is he ready?" Jones asked, noticing Neal wasn't in the room.

"As ready as he'll ever be." Peter said sullenly and began to leave to fetch Neal.

Neal suddenly walked in, however, and seemed confused at the sudden new presence in the room.

"Jones?" he said softly, turning to Peter for some sort of explanation.

"Neal… I don't really know how to say this…" Peter paused, wishing El would step in. When she didn't, he unwillingly continued. "You're going back to maximum security."

Neal didn't respond. His mouth gaped open slightly, but when it moved up and down it took several moments for any sound to come out. When they finally did, it was all Peter could do not to pull the shorter man into a hug.

"They… They think I _killed_ her?" His eyes, still moist with unshed tears, suddenly closed. Neal put his hands over his face for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair. He needed to keep it together, to seem more like his normal self. He didn't want to be the broken-hearted lover being dragged away to prison, tears cascading down his face, rambling that it wasn't his fault. He wanted to be the charming con man who took prison as nothing but a challenge. He knew he'd get out soon anyway; they couldn't _actually_ think he killed Kate.

When Jones began to pull the handcuffs from his waist band, Neal held his arms out voluntarily. Jones clicked the metal bracelets on his wrists, keeping them relatively looser than normal. It was Neal, after all, not some dangerous murderer.

"I'm sorry, Neal." Peter said. "I'll getcha out as soon as I can. I promise."

Neal nodded and turned to Elizabeth.  
"Take care of yourself, Neal." Elizabeth said. It was as if she_ knew _the way that he acted while in prison; nearly starving himself on a daily basis and undergoing constant panic attacks when confronted by another inmate or an old memory.

And with those good-byes, Jones escorted Neal out of the house and into his parked car. Neal didn't look up once as they drove away, not even to see Elizabeth and Peter standing on the front step, seeing him off. Neal only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn't the Burkes.

He was going back to prison. Back to the revolting food, aggressive people, and isolation. Sitting alone in his tiny cell for 22 hours a day (aside from the lunch hour and "outdoor break"), with only his thoughts to keep him company.

He knew Peter would get him out, he always did. But regardless, this was going to be a long few months. And he _really_ hoped he could make it.

**A/N: I know, this was almost disgustingly short, especially after making you guys wait a month! I am so very sorry, I've just been so busy! I seem to finally be getting back in the swing of writing, and I say that with confidence. The next chapter should be up much sooner, and it will cover his time in prison. Please let me know, would rather have several chapters of prison time, or just one decent-sized one and then move on to Neal being released? Leo me know in a review pretty please! I want to do what you guys want, I want this story to be enjoyable for you! **

**So, if anyone's still reading out there, please review! You are all so patient with me! **

**-AgentDiNozzo13**


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